


Homegrown Crops of the Wasteland: Crown of Ashes - Chapter Three

by Maple_Tartan



Series: Homegrown Crops of the Wasteland: The True North [3]
Category: Fallout (Video Games)
Genre: Bunker, Canada, Gen, Parliament, Québec, Royalty, bloodline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 04:06:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10733781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maple_Tartan/pseuds/Maple_Tartan
Summary: Post-apocalyptic Canada has been rebuilt from Toronto to Quebec City. Now, men scavenge the wasteland for places of interest. Someone has come upon an interesting find that could shake the hardly existent foundations of the North.





	1. A Permit to Perish

A warm breeze washed over the man dangling his feet from the edge of the Citadelle, looking at the Saint Lawrence from the sheer cliff edge. Below, ships made their summer journeys, delivering cargo from the remote outpost back to Montreal and Ronto. Three sounds rang loudest in Quebec City, the bustling of the docks, military training, and the train barrelling into town. This citizen had chosen to focus his attention on the multitude of ships navigating their way into port. Eventually, he spotted what he was looking for, waved, and dashed to the ships. He arrived just in time to see his friend closing the ship’s sail and walking onto solid ground.

“Dan!” he called, embracing his friend as they thumped one another on the back. “How was the capital?”

“Oh Ben, you should’ve been there. Seeing Abbott getting sworn in was an adventure. Beer flowed like water.”

“I would’ve gladly been there if it wasn’t for this.” said Ben, pulling a note from his shirt pocket.

“You said it was important, but why’d we have to meet on the edge of the world?”

“Because I’d bet you that we aren’t the only one’s with this map.”

Opening the folded parchment, Ben laid it over a shipping crate, pointing to a spot marked near the top.

“Well, what is it?” asked Dan, familiar with his friend’s innumerable shady contacts.

“An acquaintance of mine says it’s full of prewar military stuff. Apparently, the only reason he’s selling the map is because he’s not willing to risk the defences.”

“So, we’re banking on this well-defended military outpost having something worthwhile and not junk that’s rotten over time? And that’s giving your little acquaintance credit.” Dan folded his arms.

“Yes, yes, yes. But if it is true! We’d be rich. You know how people go crazy for this stuff.”

Dan thought for a moment, glaring at Ben. Of course he believed nothing was there, but it would eat him up if he did not prove it. “Fine, we’d better set off if we’re to reach it tonight.”

“Way ahead of you.” said Ben, presenting his friend with a packed bag as he swung his own over his shoulder.

Showing the power armoured guards their permits, the pair left the city’s fortification into the desolate wasteland. Beyond the city, few survived. Drunkards at bars spin tales of roving gangs of tribals, dominating the uncivilized northern tundra. However, anyone with the right papers to travel this far would tell you that the most dangerous person to run into would be someone who had lost gotten lost and scared.

“I’ve got another surprise.” said Ben, taking off his pack a few minutes into the day. From the pack floated a small ball of scrap with a laser pistol taped to it.

“I swear to God, you still have that thing!” shouted Dan, half laughing.

“Yes! Plus, I finally rigged the biometric scanner to only target hostiles.”

“I’m glad.” said Dan, lifting his chin, pointing at a burnt patch of skin where his thick brown beard avoided.

“Yeah… sorry ‘bout that.”

“No need, we’re even.” he said, lifting Ben’s sleeve to show feral teeth marks.

“You thought you could tame a wolf!?”

“You’ve heard the stories! Don’t question me, you’re the one who managed to tinker that floating junk into being.”

“Don’t listen to him, Steve.” Ben stroked the scrap orb.

“You’ve named it?”

“Yes. And his name is Steve.”

“Since it’s a bot, it has got to be some sort of acronym.”

There was a long pause as they ducked through the thick woods, rifles ready for wildlife. “Scientific Technology Electronic Voltage Emitter!” shouted Ben.

“Took you that long!”

“Perfection takes time.”

Dan scoffed then suddenly snatched S.T.E.V.E out of the air. He flicked off its jets and pulled out his pocket knife.

“What are you doing!?” screamed Ben, like a small child. He lunged at Dan, who ducked behind a tree.

“Making it official.” he said, showing Ben the robot’s name, engraved above the gun. Ben reached forward and turned S.T.E.V.E back on, causing it to launch upwards, smashing Dan in the chin.

“Serves you right.” said Ben, petting the bot as Dan held his chin, giggling.

The two continued their shenanigans as the Sun set. They were eating their packed lupper when an object appeared in the distance.

“What’s that?” asked Dan, mouth partially full.

“According to the map,” which was pinned to the back of S.T.E.V.E, “looks like the spot.”

Looking through his rifle scope, Dan scouted the area. “Doesn’t look like much. Not a turret in sight.”

“Maybe it’s full of trip wires and booby traps.”

“Or, you were sold some bullshit.”

“We’re this far out. Let’s just check it out.”

The spot marked on the map was not a heavily defended military outpost full of prewar weaponry. But seemed nothing more than a ruined shack. It was no more than a few meters deep and across. The metal door had nearly rusted off, clinging on for dear life. The glass windows had been shattered for centuries. Ben peeked through the sill, pistol at the ready.

“It’s empty.” he said. With that, Dan pushed open the door, which immediately fell from its hinges. Clanging against the shack’s metal floor.

“This floor is odd.” said Dan.

Suddenly, the floor started to slowly open. Dan jumped back as a staircase was slowly revealed. The metal floor was extremely thick, and not simply made of just any ordinary metals. The two friends looked to one another, shrugged, allowing curiosity to take hold, and walked down the stairs. The tunnel below was fully concrete and quickly interrupted by another door. This door was different. It was not metal, but concrete as the rest of the underground. The two of them started inspecting the door when it also opened.

Within the doors was a man in his mid-forties, dressed very nicely with a proper haircut. Meters behind him was a beautiful girl with two young girls and a boy hiding behind her elegant gown. Further behind them were a few more civilian dressed folk, peaking out from behind doors. The underground area was extraordinarily clean and different from any Vault or anything above ground.

“Who are you?” asked the man, sternly. He held a revolver in his hand and gripped it tightly.

“We were just looking around. We’ll be going now.” said Dan, backing away with his hands raised.

“Who are you?” asked Ben, standing his ground.

“I am the King of the British Empire.”


	2. A Velvet Coffin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bunker uncovered, it came time to face reality. While Dan rushed off to fetch proper authorities, Ben stayed behind and explained the modern world to a relic of the past.

While Dan had left to get the governor general, Ben had been welcomed into the vault. Servants showed him to the guest room, a small space with two red couches, facing one another. Between them was a short table. Before he sat, another servant popped into the room and placed piping hot tea and scones before him. Before you could utter a word, they were gone.

Bringing the porcelain cup to his face, Ben inspected the room. The walls were covered in simple, clean tapestries with ornate rugs sprawled along the floor. He could clearly see where his filthy boots had marked. Portraits of impeccably dressed men and women hung between paintings of battles. Some had archers raining hell on plated foes but a few had men with rifles storming beaches under artillery shells.

While staring at these paintings, the King entered the room. Ben placed his tea back onto its little plate and leant forward, planting his elbows on his separated knees.

“Welcome to my home.” said the King, displeased with Ben lack of decorum.

“It’s a nice place. You ought to give me your decorator’s number.” said Ben, referencing the elephant in the room.

“Right, I have my questions, as do you. What is the world like now?”

“Well, I am the second generation of citizens. My parents being raiders out of Montreal. Most of us are farmers, some working in factories, and the rest scavenge the wastes.”

“So the world is a wasteland.” the King seemed exhausted.

“I mean, some of it. Montreal and Ronto are quite the beauties. The government's been working hard at restoring it back to the old ways. Strong foundation and all before expanding.”

“What’s the government like?”

“They try to emulate prewar Canada in every way they can. Abbott just took office a few days ago. Though not the Abbott you’re thinking. Every new Prime Minister takes the name of the Prime Minister in order of succession from 1867 onwards.”

“How are they rebuilding?”

“Rebuilding the ruins of downtown, getting farms going. We have control of the Great Lakes, so that helps a lot.” Ben sprawled his map on the table, moving his tea to the floor.

“Fascinating.” There was a moment of silence as the King leant close to the map.

“Okay, now it’s your turn.” asked Ben, leaning back. Expecting some intriguing storytelling.

“Right, where to start. Before the bombs dropped in 2077, there was the European Civil War. Back in Britain, my great great grandmother sent each of her kids off to one of the main commonwealth nations, Canada, Australia, and New Zealand. They stayed in these bunkers, fearing the worst, though they kept in contact just before the bombs via couriers. Then, the worst came, and we have been here ever since.”

“What’re you called? Henry the Ninth?” Ben dipped a scone in his chilling tea.

“King Arthur the First.”

“Like Camelot, eh?”

“Yes. How much do you know of myth and history? Your general education.”

“All the second geners had to go from elementary to high school, even CEGEP here. They seriously focused on us knowing about the world before the war, Agincourt to Normandy,” Ben pointed at the wall’s painting. “Then you either go into the military or university. Once that’s done, people can stay in one of those or find work on a farm or something in the cities, most likely construction. My friend and I enjoy freelance work in the military. We escort people around the wasteland and just explore, working on commission.”

Another servant entered the vault and placed cucumber sandwiches on the table, bowed and left as quick as she entered. Ben did not wait before stuffing his face.

“I have to warn you, people are going to question this whole ‘King’ thing.” he said, washing the food down with his refilled tea.

“I have the proper documents, signed and stamped since before the war.”

“I’m sure you do, but people will still be suspicious.”

“Why would they? What do I gain from this?”

“From what I’ve seen in this vault, nothing. Though you wouldn’t be the first coming from underground, talking crazy.”

“My subjects would accuse their King of mental instability? I will have them tried for treason.” Arthur stood, glaring down at Ben as if he represented all possible dissenters.

“Firstly, tone down ‘subjects’ talk. The common folk don’t appreciate hawkish overlords. We were just lawless raiders a generation ago, don’t tempt us. Secondly,” Ben shot up from the couch, holding his rusty switchblade against Arthur’s throat. “it is our choice to give you power. Not your blood or your lavish livings. Us.”

Ben’s sudden lurch had knocked the plate of sandwiches off the table, causing just enough noise for a servant to run in. Ben closed his knife and quickly pocketed it before the girl could see. He dropped to his knees and started cleaning up the sandwiches.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got this.” he said, inelegantly piling the food back onto the nearly chipped plate and dropping it back on the table. Before she could rebuttal, Ben picked up a sandwich and ate it. “See?”

She giggled and left right after curtsying.

“Is this what I should expect from the surface?” asked Arthur, rubbing his neck.

“If people don’t believe you, yes. If not, you’ll do just fine. Although law and order have come to town, things can still be pretty rough.”

“Tell me...just...about the world. It’s people. What are they like now?”

For the next few hours, Ben walked the King through the daily lives of the average person of the Dominion, from brave soldier to humble farmer. He also spoke of how other lived in places like the Commonwealth, Brotherhood of Steel, and NCR. In detail, he described how they thought. He was no expert on human behaviour, but he felt that he had a strong grasp on how people functioned. For the next few hours, he taught the King about the mind of the common folk and how they might react to his presence and just how he might wish to prepare himself.

During his lesson, they heard the vault door open and hurried footsteps. Ben and Arthur stood to see Dan and the governor-general round the corner.

“Your Majesty!” gasped the governor-general, as he bowed.

“Came as fast as we could.” said Dan, partially out of breath.

“Your Highness, we must leave at once. The House is clambering at the news, to not speak of the people.”

“Agreed.” said Arthur, looking at his wife, standing behind the two arrivals, and smiling.

That night, the royal family left their bunker for the first time in two centuries and met their loyal subjects. His arrival was met by a vote in the House of Commons, ending on a vote on powers and allowance. His powers would be the same as before the war, none existent, and his family would remain in the royal bunker as he would travel back and forth from above ground. The bill passed and was followed by a marvellous parade. Citizens lined the streets of the capital as the royal car slowly paraded down the main road, doused in streamers and confetti.

Most of the common folk were happy with their new King. He had existed metaphorically ever since the nation’s founding, but now they had a proper name to invoke in parliament. Any dissenters kept their grumblings civil, as nothing truly fundamental had changed. For his time as king, Arthur remembered to remain civil and kind to the average subject he oversaw. He became famous for his impassioned speeches about the poor and less fortunate of the nation and helping them. Helping the royal family’s standing, the children were required to marry into the lower classes. Arthur’s successors would be distinctly of common breed.

Benjamin Gordon and Daniel Clark went down in the history books as legendary adventurers. Although they were regular soldiers on a break from the campaign, their lives became embellished in future literature, of the like of ‘The Great Journey to the Underground Crown’ and ‘The Men Who Struck Gold’. What was truth came from legend is that Ben eventually married that servant girl who giggled with him in the bunker. They raised a family together in Montreal, though he continued serving with Daniel until they retired and lived the lives of minor celebrities in the growing nation of post-war Canada. 


End file.
